Brutal Affections
by Planeswalker
Summary: Every week, Dilandau issues brutal punishment to one of his Dragonslayers, and this week, it seems he's chosen Miguel. What does this punishment actually entail? And has Miguel actually discovered a way to make the pain end?


Hey people.

Just another fic that struck me outta the blue.

It takes place in an alternate reality. 

This is not for kiddies! There's no lemon/lime, but it's pretty damn close... we're talking feet here... ^.^ 

It's pretty dark too...

Ooooooh...

Enjoy!

  
  


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Miguel Labriel paced the polished marble floor of his room. His bare feet slapped the cold surface as he made another round of the room. His head began to spin, and his stomach to churn, and so he sat on his bed. He dragged a hand through his dark brown hair and took a deep breath, but the restlessness had soon overwhelmed him again, and he was pacing once more. 

"Just gotta get my mind off it, that's all." He muttered to himself, padding quickly from his darkened room into the noisy Common Room of the Dragonslayers.

The Common Room was just down the hall from most of the 'slayer's rooms, but the Inner Dragonslayers, the elite of the 'slayers, had their rooms attached directly to the Common Room.

"Hey!" cried a voice from across the room. "Miguel! Over here!" Miguel raised his dark eyes from the floor to search the room for the speaker. His eyes found a couple of the elite 'slayers, often referred to by others on the floating warship as 'Dilandau's pets'.

Miguel walked over to his companions and sat down in a black leather chair next to the fireplace. He looked around to see who else was there. Dallet and Viole sat on a black leather couch nearby. Dallet had shoulder length brown hair that he had taken to wearing in a queue tied neatly at the base of his neck. His sharp amber eyes gave him the impression of a predator. He had been given the rank of Inner 'slayer simply because of his skill for flying the 'melefs. He was by far the best at manoeuvring the sophisticated craft. He was the same age as Miguel and Viole, sixteen.

Viole's hair was a bit longer than Dallet's, but he preferred to wear it lose. A lot of people were fooled by the fact that the 'slayer seldom spoke, but the truth was, Viole was far from meek. He was an excellent strategist, better even than General Dilandau himself. His battle plans rarely failed. 

Chesta, who was only thirteen, sat by himself in another chair by the fire. He was the youngest soldier with the rank of Inner 'slayer. His overall technique at everything had been far above any of the others at his age, and Dilandau had insisted that Chesta had the potential to be the best of them all, given time, that is. Chesta was known to the others as the quiet blonde boy, who virtually revered Dilandau.

'The other Inner must be off training.' 

"So Miguel," whispered Dallet, blocking Chesta from their conversation. "Do you know who he's calling yet?"

Miguel swallowed hard. 

"No, I don't." he lied. 

'Why pretend? If you don't, you can at least get their sympathy.' whispered Miguel's conscience.

Dallet bit his lip and cringed.

"Oh damn. I hope it's not me, that's all." 

Viole shifted positions on the couch, painfully it seemed.

"Well he picked me last week, so it's not me for sure."

Chesta stood, and walked over to become part of the conversation.

"What is it guys?" he asked softly. "Can you tell me?"

Dallet scoffed, and jerked a thumb in the youngest boy's direction.

"Not gonna be him, that's for damn sure. Lucky little bastard." 

Viole chuckled and pushed his hair out of his eyes, but didn't speak. 

"Why won't you tell me?" demanded Chesta angrily.

Dallet raised an eyebrow at the young 'slayer.

"It's the last day of the week. Dilandau is going to call one of us to his room."

"Yeah, and?"

Dallet rolled his eyes.

"You're still too young. He won't call you. At least the General's decent in that way."

Chesta clenched his fists. 

"Tell me Dallet!" he insisted.

Dallet pretended not to hear.

"Tell me!" he commanded again.

'Would you like him to find out for himself, alone in the General's room, like you did?'

Dallet continued to ignore Chesta. Miguel sighed, and began to explain.

"I'll tell you if you want to know. We might as well tell him now guys. He'll be around for a while, and he's going to get called someday, right?"

Viole shrugged, uncommitted. Dallet just glared.

"So listen carefully Chesta, you're only going to hear this once, then you're on your own."

The youngest 'slayer nodded.

"You know how Dilandau calls down one of us at the end of the week?"

"Yeah."

"Well what do you think he does?"

Chesta seemed at a loss for words.

"I dunno. I never really thought about it. Yells at you?"

Miguel shook his head, sad for the innocence about to be lost in this boy.

"Well, how can I put this lightly? He-" Dallet briskly interrupted his comrade.

"He screws us, you know, shafts us."

Chesta was taken aback.

"Wh- what?" the boy stammered, not quite understanding the unusual vocabulary. Dallet leaned closer to intimate his next statement to Chesta.

"You heard me right Ches, he fucks us." Dallet spat the word venomously. "Well, not all the time, sometimes he's just in the mood to beat the shit out of us." Dallet reclined leisurely, "Either way, why the hell else do you think we come back so damn sore?" 

"But why would he do that? I mean…" Chesta trailed off, hardly believing. 

"It's probably because that's how he was trained." stated Dallet matter-of-factly.

"So who did that to him then?" asked Chesta, now wanting to know as much as he could.

Dallet shrugged.

"Why do you think," began Viole "that Dilandau obeys Lord Folken the way he does?"

"Lord Folken?" Chesta squeaked.

At that moment, a messenger of the General walked into the room.

"Is there a Miguel Labriel in here?" 

He swore under his breath and stood slowly.

"I'm Miguel." 

'Come on, don't pretend you didn't already know it was you.'

The messenger sighed; probably glad he'd found who he was looking for quickly enough not to have to face his master's wrath.

"You're to go down to Lord Dilandau's chambers immediately."

"Of course." Miguel turned back to the other Inner. "Looks like it's me this time. See you guys later." 

Chesta just gaped as Miguel left the room. After several minutes, he found his voice.

"But… doesn't he know that-" 

"Of course he does." began Viole, his sudden words surprising Dallet. 

"It's not like he has any say in it, right? So he just accepts his fate like the rest of us. You'll get it in time too kid. That's just the way it is."

  
  


****

  
  


Miguel knocked softly on the double doors of Dilandau's chambers.

"Come in." directed the seventeen year old general.

Miguel took a deep breath, and walked into the room.

"Well, well." Drawled the lord. "What do we have here?" 

Dilandau sat comfortably in a chair in the corner of his room. His silver hair fell lazily into his hungry red eyes. 

"You've come to receive punishment, have you soldier?"

"Yes, Lord Dilandau."

'He's going to give it to you tonight, soldier.' 

The general smiled like a snake, enjoying this game.

"So what did you do to deserve this punishment?" 

Miguel stood a little straighter and began his explanation.

"I failed to defeat my opponent in a simple drill." Recited the 'slayer.

The truth was, it had not been a simple drill, and his opponent had been Dilandau himself. He knew the moment he'd been called by Dilandau to spar, there wasn't a chance he'd be safe in his own room tonight. This was, however, what the garnet eyed general liked to hear.

"That's not entirely true soldier." Dilandau laughed softly, "I really had my heart set on seeing you tonight." he laughed to himself again.

Miguel eyed his lord suspiciously, wondering if he was being sarcastic.

"Either way, soldier, you know what your punishment will be. I'll be back. You'd better be waiting." Dilandau stood, and was about to retreat to another part of his chambers when Miguel yelled out after him:

"Wait!" 

Dilandau stopped, and turned around.

"This had better be important, Labriel."

"Why do you punish like this?" Dilandau smirked.

"I was wondering when one of you would ask. It's because that's how I was taught."

"But who-"

"Oh come on, take a wild guess." Dilandau rolled his eyes. "Who's the only person on this whole damn floating ship I obey without question?"

"So it is Lord Folken?" 

Dilandau nodded in approval. 

"So you are smarter than you look, Labriel."

Miguel sighed heavily.

"But if you hated it, than why are you doing it us?"

"I demand your unwavering loyalty, true?" Dilandau continued without waiting for Miguel to reply. "This way, I know you'll obey me, because you're terrified of what will happen if you don't. Chesta's almost old enough now. Maybe I'll give him to you to break in." 

Miguel sneered in open disgust.

"I don't get off raping little boys."

Dilandau chuckled, and walked closer to Miguel.

"The thing is, neither do I. But I do enjoy grown men like yourself."

Miguel frowned up into blood-red eyes as their owner toyed with a piece of the younger man's hair.

"I- you disgust me!" he managed to choke out, batting Dilandau's hand away.

"Come on." Dilandau purred. "Won't you just go willingly like the others?"

"Wha- what?" spluttered Miguel. His head reeled at this new discovery. "No! They wouldn't!"

'Oh yes they would.'

"Oh, but they do." whispered the general. "They practically line up at my door." Dilandau waved a hand heedlessly. "I just give them what they want and send them on their way. Like a bunch of dogs, lining up for their treats. All except you, Miguel."

The general's pale hand caressed the unblemished skin of Miguel's face, unlike his own. He'd come to appreciate things like that. The younger 'slayer backed away.

"I won't. Not any longer!"

Dilandau sighed, as if exasperated with all the effort he was putting into this conversation. 

"If you won't, I'll force you, like Folken did. I wouldn't give in either, but then I finally saw that it could be so much more enjoyable for the both of us if I did. He once told me this: It would be a lot better if you would just bend over and take your fate..." Dilandau leaned closer to whisper the rest into Miguel's ear. "...straight up the ass." 

The older man chuckled in amusement as Miguel took in a sharp breath and backed into the double doors. He couldn't, for the life of him, see Lord Folken in all his serious decorum saying anything like that.

"Come on Miguel." the silver-haired general spoke softly and seductively. "You're just making this so much harder on yourself." 

Dilandau leaned closer to the trapped 'slayer and kissed him roughly. Just the way the other's tongue invaded his mouth and twisted into and slicked his own was almost too much for the inexperienced 'slayer. He steadied himself on the doors behind him, for his knees had gone too weak to support his own weight. Miguel suddenly felt a heat rise between his legs he had never known before, and he began to blush, furious at himself for feeling anything at all for his brutal master. 

'Oh Creator, you know you want this.'

Anything Dilandau had done to him previously was meant simply to cause pain to Miguel and perhaps slight gratification to the general, but nothing more. This was something completely different, and it was entirely more personal. 

The general moved on to Miguel's neck, alternately nipping and sucking at the tanned skin. The 'slayer tried not to let it affect him, but in the end he was betrayed by an enraptured moan that escaped his kiss-swollen lips.

"No..." he groaned into his tormenter's silver hair. "This isn't right..."

Dilandau stopped momentarily, and looked into Miguel's pleading dark eyes.

"Do you want me to stop then?" he asked, starting to pull away.

"Creator no..." slurred Miguel, barely audible. 

'That's right. You know you want it.'

"Do you really-" began Dilandau temptingly, his lips brushing his inferior's ear.

"No!" cried Miguel, the sudden proximity of his master startling him. 

"If you want me to slow down," drawled the general, "Just tell me so."

Dilandau pulled off Miguel's shirt and began to trail arduous kisses down the 'slayer's chest. The general stopped for a moment to push back his disorganized shining hair, and drop to his knees. He looked up at Miguel naughtily.

"Now watch carefully," he intoned sarcastically. "This is the only time you'll see me on my knees for you." Dilandau's tongue circled the 'slayer's navel lazily for a moment.

"Oh fuck." Miguel whispered quietly, realizing what was coming next. Red eyes gleamed mischievously as their owner hooked a finger into Miguel's pants and pulled them down, leaving the younger man in only his boxers.

'So does the General spit or swallow?' 

Miguel shook his head, trying to get the thought that had come so unbidden back out again. Worries had made his conscience a little off these days. He was jerked back from his thoughts when he felt his boxers being drawn slowly down. 

"Please stop." Miguel spoke softly. Dilandau looked surprised.

"Really?" he asked, genuinely taken unawares.

'You know you don't want it to stop.'

"Really." replied Miguel through gritted teeth. "I want you to stop."

"I said slow, not stop. Stop is not an option." teased the general playfully.

'There's only one way to make him stop.'

"I want this to stop. Now." repeated Miguel firmly.

'You know what it is.'

"You're just getting nervous." sighed Dilandau, frustrated. "That's all."

'You know what you have to do.'

"No! I want this to stop now!" yelled Miguel, trying to back away, but realizing that there was no where to run to. As Miguel froze, Dilandau removed his captive's undergarments completely.

'Kill him.'

"Well," Dilandau sneered, "It seems that your mouth is the only part of you that's refusing me. You can't deny that the rest of you seems quite eager."

'Kill him!'

"NO!" roared Miguel as his knee rose to connect with Dilandau's chin. 

There was a sickening crunch, and Dilandau flew backwards, landing with a heavy thud on the slick marble floor, his neck twisted at an awkward angle.

'Now you've done it. He's gonna give it to you for sure.'

Miguel stood frozen, preparing himself for the pain that was surely to come from his furious master.

But his master didn't move. He lay so still, his position could have been likened to a discarded rag doll, heaped in a pile, folded in impossible ways, waiting to come to life to play. But Dilandau still didn't move. He lay as still as a corpse, 

'He is a corpse...'

a blackish bruise slowly forming at a large lump at the base of his neck.

"I- I killed him..." stammered Miguel, still not believing what he had done.

The immortal general had been so easily dispatched and the eternal captive had been so easily freed from his perpetual bonds. 

The 'slayer tried to back up once more, before realizing he was still against the double wooden doors. He quickly pulled on his clothes, and ran to the Common Room.

He had managed to slow his walking pace, but not his heart rate as he walked into the bustling room. The disquieted 'slayer walked over to the chair he'd been in before and sat down stiffly, not even noticing that his friend's were talking to him.

"I said, MIGUEL!"

Miguel's mind drifted slowly back from wherever it had been.

"Hun?" 

"I've only been trying to get your attention for the last five minutes!" fumed Dallet.

"So was it bad?" asked Chesta quietly, speaking for them all.

"I... killed him." whispered Miguel, too quietly for the others to hear.

"What?"

"I killed him." said Miguel, more loudly and with more confidence. "I killed him!"

Dallet stared, unbelieving.

"What?!" Dallet yelled, "You did WHAT?"

Miguel began to laugh crazily, the pitch of his voice rising and falling unexpectedly.

"I killed him!" cried Miguel, loudly enough to attract the attention of more than a few of the other 'slayers in the room.

"I fucking killed him!" Miguel continued to laugh, ignoring those around him.

"Killed who?" Another 'slayer asked.

"I killed General Dilandau Albatou!" bellowed Miguel, his voice breaking. "He's dead! How do I know? Because I killed him! That's right!" Miguel broke off into another spell of uncharacteristic giggles.

Miguel's senses were slowly slipping away. Dilandau may have abused him, but he had been the one constant in his life as long as he'd lived. Dilandau was immortal, everlasting, all-powerful. How could he have been killed by a blow from one of his inferiors? Without this one constant to refer back to, there was nothing. He was just another soldier without a leader. A mind suddenly empty, floating alone.

Some of the other 'slayers began to wail in alarm. 

"No!" cried one, "It can't be true! Nobody can kill Dilandau!"

One of the younger 'slayers began to cry piteously. 

Viole stood silently and walked into his darkened room, drawing his sword. There was an audible hiss of metal meeting flesh, a crunch of viscera, and a thud; the sound of someone heavy hitting the marble. Viole did not return. 

Miguel watched numbly as 'slayers siphoned off to various rooms, stumbling in equal dumbness to anywhere but where they were. A brawl broke out among some of the younger boys. Then even those boys eventually limped off with bloody faces and fists after not too long. 

Miguel stood alone in the Common Room among over-turned chairs and dead Dragonslayers' bodies. Time passed unnoticed, for even it had no meaning any longer.

"I've cause sixteen deaths today, without even knowing it..." 

Miguel walked over to his favourite chair, one of the only ones in the room left upright.

"I've destroyed the meaning of my life…"

Miguel slowly pulled his dagger from his boot, and examined its polished, silvery length.

"The same colour as his hair…" whispered Miguel to himself.

'What have you done?'

"I didn't know-"

'Why did you do it?'

"I didn't think-"

'Why!?'

"Oh Creator I don't know…" sobbed Miguel, "I don't know why… It hurts. Why does it hurt? I've killed so many men before…"

'There's only one way to make it stop.'

"Yes…" breathed the last 'slayer. "Only one way…"

Miguel raised his dagger so the point was in line with his heart. 

'Die.'

The muscles in his arms tensed as he drove the dagger home.

"Yes… Die…"

  
  


**** 

  
  


Miguel sat straight up in bed, his breathing laboured. He looked down at his hands, and then threw off the covers to see that the rest of him was still intact as well. When he realized it had all been a dream, he began to laugh joyously, pulling on his clothes to go tell the rest of the 'slayers the amazing dream he'd had.

The dream slipped away as he suddenly remembered the horrible error he'd made training the day before. He'd been challenged to spar with Dilandau, and lost.

'There is no way you're going to be safe in your own bed tonight.'

He paced the polished marble floor of his room, his bare feet slapping the cold surface as he made another round of the room. His head began to spin, and his stomach to churn, and so he sat on his bed. He dragged a hand through his dark brown hair and took a deep breath, but the restlessness had soon overwhelmed him again, and he was pacing once more. 

"Just gotta get my mind off it, that's all." He muttered to himself, padding quickly from his darkened room into the noisy Common Room of the Dragonslayers.

"Hey!" cried a voice from across the room. "Miguel! Over here!" Miguel raised his dark eyes from the floor to search the room for the speaker. His eyes found a couple of the elite 'slayers.

'The other Inner must be off training.' 

"So Miguel," whispered Dallet, blocking Chesta from their conversation. "Do you know who he's calling yet?"

Miguel swallowed hard. 

"No, I don't." he lied. 

'Don't you just hate deja vu?' asked Miguel's conscience.

Dallet bit his lip and cringed.

"Oh damn. I hope it's not me, that's all." 

Viole shifted positions on the couch, painfully it seemed.

"Well he picked me last week, so it's not me for sure."

'Wait...'

Chesta stood, and walked over to become part of the conversation.

"What is it guys?" he asked softly. "Can you tell me?"

Dallet scoffed, and jerked a thumb in the youngest boy's direction.

"Not gonna be him, that's for damn sure. Lucky little bastard." 

Viole chuckled and pushed his hair out of his eyes, but didn't speak. 

"Why won't you tell me?" demanded Chesta angrily.

'It's all...'

Dallet raised an eyebrow at the young 'slayer.

"It's the last day of the week. Dilandau is going to call one of us to his room."

"Yeah, and?"

Dallet rolled his eyes.

"You're still too young. He won't call you. At least the General's decent in that way."

Chesta clenched his fists. 

"Tell me Dallet!" he insisted.

'It's all the same...'

Dallet pretended not to hear.

"Tell me!" he commanded again.

"Dallet," growled Miguel, "Just explain it to him, and stop being a bastard."

"The general screws us, you know, shafts us. That what he does when he calls us down at the end of the week. What did you think he did? Yell at us or something?"

The 'slayers voices were drowned out by the confusion filling Miguel's head.

"Either way, why the hell else do you think we come back so damn sore?" 

"But why would he do that? I mean…" Chesta trailed off, hardly believing. 

'Oh Creator no. Not again. Not this. No!' Miguel cried out silently, ignoring the conversation he had already heard before.

At that moment, a messenger of the General walked into the room.

"Is there a Miguel Labriel in here?" 

He swore under his breath and stood slowly.

"I'm Miguel." 

'Come on, don't pretend you didn't already know it was you.'

"You're to go down to Lord Dilandau's chambers immediately."

"Of course." Miguel turned back to the other Inner. 

"Looks like it's me this time. See you guys later." 

Chesta just gaped as Miguel left the room. After several minutes, he found his voice.

"But… doesn't he know that-" 

Miguel walked back into the room, and yelled over to Chesta.

"Of course I do! It's not like I have a say in it anyway, right? So I just accept my fate."

'Right up the ass, eh?'

Miguel ignored his second self.

"You'll get it in time too, kid. That's just the way it is."

Miguel walked back through the door, leaving a totally puzzled Viole in his wake.

"But... that's what I was going to..." Miguel heard Viole stammer before he was out of earshot of the Common Room.

'That's just the way it is... It's better for everyone this way...'

He laughed softly to himself. 

'Little does that poor misguided general know, his brutal affections are actually what's keeping us alive."

  
  


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End

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I hope you enjoyed that!

Please review! Constructive criticism is appreciated, but flames will be personally kept by me for Dilandau and I to adore.

Thanks again!

Always remember Miguel's new motto, shigata go nai!

(What can you do?)

~Planeswalker

  
  
  
  



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